Jack & Jack
by anamcara27
Summary: What happened during the Cardiff Blitz when Captain Jack met his namesake -- a short reflection from the real Captain Jack Harkness' point of view.


I'm running out of time...running with a desperate sense of urgency pressing in on me, each beat of my heart another grain of sand draining out of the hourglass of my life. The rush of blood is a deafening roar in my ears…if I'm going to do anything, if it's going to happen at all it has to be soon. My mouth is dry as dust but I don't want another drink. I don't want to be numb…not tonight. Tonight want to feel this exquisite sensation, I want to feel every moment of being here, right now, teetering on the edge of madness. If I do this…if I go through with it…it could cost me everything. What am I thinking?

I pass my hand over my face, swallowing the sour taste of terror and watch him covertly. I'm disgusted with myself for lurking in the shadows and lusting after another man so publicly. It's a miracle nobody around me has figured it out…well, nobody but James and I gave him no reason to misunderstand. I silently repeat his name and shiver as the echo of the syllables ripples through my body like molasses. What would it be like to whisper that name against his bare, sweaty skin? What would it be like to feel that slick, hard body pressed against mine? A suddenly vivid image of James slips into my mind, naked to the waist, face tight with passion, those eyes hot and dark on me…

//Get a grip on yourself, Harkness.// I lean against the wall for support, drawing in a deep breath and aching with the sheer weight of want. I need so badly to touch him, need to have him touch me. I suppose it's not so surprising that no one has guessed – after all, I'm strictly a ladies man and a gentleman to boot. I've never even given the slightest hint of anything else. Never. And it's never been a problem before tonight either; before James Harper stepped into the room and stole all the light.

I stare into the half full glass of amber liquid slipping in my sweaty palm and take a deep swallow of Dutch courage, wondering if it's enough to propel me across the room to claim him. He wouldn't turn me away. I know he wouldn't. The way his fingers linked with mine when I touched his hand is enough to tell me that…and the memory makes me feel suddenly weak kneed. I shocked him, when I took his hand, shocked him and myself as well. Surprise was written on his face, along with a sudden flash of understanding in his gaze, his fingers lacing with mine, the knowing little half smile, a secret shared just between us…

"Captain? Everything all right?" I blink at the concerned note in Tim's voice and feel a wash of color rise in my face. I must have made some noise. I laugh it off, clapping the seventeen-year old boy on the shoulder.

"Of course I am. Come on. Let me buy you a drink." The boy grins eagerly at me.

"Yes, sir."

And my momentary distraction is all but forgotten. I buy another round of drinks, even though it's the last thing I want to be doing. My body is there with my men and I do a reasonable job of being sociable but my mind is so very far away, locked in a fantasy where I had the courage to follow James when I had the chance, when he smiled and said 'We'll find someplace else,' and I took my fear and ran with it.

I am utterly pathetic and I despise my own cowardice. He as much as told me to go to Nancy – how did he put that? Oh yes, ' go to your woman and lose yourself in her'. As if I could. But of course I couldn't. And I didn't. And I'm still here. And so is James, James who understands everything.

I swallow hard at the breath stealing thought and excuse myself, trying not to let my impatience with the age old rituals slip through. I can't be civil any longer. I don't have the luxury of wasting time. James as much as told me that tonight is my last night on earth, though how he would know such a thing I can't even imagine. Still, he's an extraordinary man, James Harper is, utterly extraordinary.

I lean against the wall across the dance floor, watching him, anxiety and desire hollowing out my belly. He stares back at me, eyes dark, full of things he can't or won't say. He does want me…I can feel the weight of it, the finely drawn tension, but he won't come to me and I suddenly understand. The responsibility for whatever happens tonight -- or doesn't -- will ultimately rest at my feet.

And it's not actually about whether or not I believe him. It's about a bone deep sense that even if I do manage to live to be one hundred, tonight is the only night I will ever have with James Harper. So it's come down to this, one more last chance in a war filled with last chances.

_Make tonight the best night of your life…go to your woman and lose yourself in her…this could be your last chance…that's why I came back…_

My head spins a little as I push myself upright and my feet are carrying me across the dance floor, my gaze still locked on him, my heart slamming in my chest. I can hear one simple phrase repeating endlessly over the rush of blood in my ears…_that's why I came back…that's why I came back…that's why I came back_…one step…then another…my confidence building with each step until I'm standing in front of his table, looking down at his bowed head. //What now, Harkness?// A voice in my head mocks me sarcastically, even as a shimmer of warmth ripples through me at simply being so close to him.

A very small smile touches my lips. //Now I'm going to take my last chance and the hell with the consequences.//

I hold out a hand to him, proud of the fact that the tremor running through me is so fine it's nearly unnoticeable, and close my fingers over his. Immediately the tension that's been building between us flares and the trembling gets stronger. I draw him to his feet and he's willing, so very willing even though his eyes hold a thousand questions…and a million secrets. I have no answers for him tonight and, at this moment, no questions either. All that's left in me is a deep sense of drowning in the pleasure of finally, _finally_ touching him and all I can do is look at him, want him, and feel the curious sensation of coming home.

We move together slowly, as if in a dream, at once hesitant and smooth, and the relief of feeling his body against me is nearly overwhelming. The urgency is gone, fled in the face of a powerful wave of sheer bliss. I close my eyes, as the world narrows down to just this moment, to him and me and a host of incredible sensations I've never felt before, never imagined I could feel. And we begin to dance.

A soft exhale, his or mine, I'm not sure, we've melded so close it's difficult to know where he begins and I end. It may have been mine because in the next instant, I am inhaling deeply, drowning scent of sunshine and cotton and dark secrets. I nestle closer, wanting nothing more than to crawl inside him. Nothing has ever felt as right as this. My cheek brushes against his and though we're both clean shaven, his skin is rougher than any woman's and the sensation makes my body throb and my breath catch.

His too. He slides his hand up my back, wrapping it over my shoulder, pulling me closer, and I wonder hazily if I am the only one who wants to take up residence in the same skin. He presses his hips to mine and he's hard, yes, like me, but not desperate. Not yet. But the tangible feel of his desire is enough to push me out of my complacence and it's not enough. Not anymore. As good as it feels to finally hold him, I want…I need…more…

The moment unravels. I pull back, he pulls back, just enough to look at one another. I take in his warm, sweet breath, my eyes on his lips and lean in ever so slightly. A tidal wave of emotion threatens to overwhelm me with the knowledge that I am going to kiss him. My breath shortens. I've never wanted anything more than this in my entire life. He moves closer…closer…and closer still. The anticipation is utterly exquisite. My heart pounds harder, my breath falling into short little pants, and then…and then it's all over with a loud bang and a brilliant flash. I'm out of time and it's too soon…Dear God it's too soon.

I can feel him withdrawing, the almost physical sensation of his soul pulling back from mine. I'm not sure the loss could have been any greater if it had been a part of my own body. The woman who came with him, Toshiko, is a gray blur, shouting something about getting out and the shock is complete and utterly brutal, breaking the spell between us as effectively as a bucket of cold water.

I stare at him paralyzed but still tracing the lines of his face, memorizing each line and curve. It will have to last me, I know because I can see it in his eyes. Only I can see something else in that crystal blue gaze. He's conflicted. He wants to stay. With me. I feel it surge in him, the temptation to throw everything away on a whim. He hesitates, just on the edge, his fingers tightening on my arms, his internal struggle mapped out across his face. And then Toshiko again.

"Jack!" She calls from across the room, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. "Jack, you have to come. We need you."

Nothing could have been better calculated to draw him from me. I might have had it in me to hate her but I couldn't. I know that conflict so well it brings a faint smile to my lips -- that and a surge of reckless joy tempered with a hint of sorrow. I may lost James Harper to his duty, but for the first time in memory, I feel complete. The daring flirtation, the slow sensuous dance, the almost kiss unlocked a part of me I'd never dared to touch before. And now that the secret is out, now that I've quit lying to myself, I feel like a caged animal suddenly set free. It is simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying.

"I have to go," James says and I can see he's willing me to understand. I nod wordlessly, anything I might have said still locked in my throat. "It's my duty," he continues, his voice faintly choked. One final squeeze, and his hand slips off my elbow as he turns and steps away from me, his broad muscular shoulders silhouetted against the light.

I watch him, aching with a hunger that will never be sated. His lazy, sensual stride has a hint of determination to it. One more minute, perhaps less than a minute and he will be gone forever, disappearing into the brilliant white light with the woman. It's another moment frozen in time, an image permanently burned into my memory, James Harper's back slowly disappearing.

And then, before I have time to register the change he's back and his hands are on my face, my throat, his fingers cool and strong, and his mouth is on mine. All the breath leaves me in a rush and I'm kissing him back ravenously. The pleasure is soul stealing, overwhelming, tearing through me with the ferocity of an orgasm. The world utterly disappears, leaving nothing beyond the hungry, open-mouthed kisses we exchange. My hand threads through the thick, silky mink brown strands, briefly anchoring his mouth to mine but I let it slip away. This kiss belongs to him…which is probably a good thing. Were it mine, I don't think I'd have the strength to keep it from getting out of hand.

He finally pulls back, panting, eyes locked on my lips. His hands frame my face with exquisite gentleness once more, slide to my throat and then he's gone. I watch him go, chest heaving, eyes burning, heart firmly in my throat. When he turns back to look at me, I do the only thing I can think of beyond falling to my knees and begging him to stay – I throw a salute, from one military man taking care of his duty to another.


End file.
